


Two sides to every story

by FancifulRivers



Series: faded morning glories and hopes for a better future [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Chronic Pain, Disabled Character, Fluff with a dash of angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Injuries, Pillow Fights, Tumblr: otpprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:01:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chara and Asriel have a pillow fight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two sides to every story

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Undertale.
> 
> Okay, so this is tweaked, because I don't ship any of them together, really, they're just a great big dysfunctional family-
> 
> On the other hand, this prompt was too good to pass up. :P
> 
> From otpprompts: "Imagine your OTP having a pillow fight when person A swings too hard and person B ducks, only to have person A hit and break a vase/lamp. They both try to hide the evidence before person C gets home."

You're miserable. You wake up and everything hurts. Your back is one low, miserable ball of agony and even your fingers throb. You've still got healing blisters on a couple of them from your impromptu visit to the buttercup patch, and those hurt, too. Mom fixes you up some meds, but they don't kick in fast enough. Then again, you consider rather begrudgingly, it's hard for human meds to kick in immediately.

It's great because today's clothes shopping day. You hate it as much as the next monster, but you know Frisk hates it, too, and you know Frisk likes it when you go with them. Time to play big happy family, but now you fucked it up. Again. If it was just stiffness, you'd suck it up and hop in your wheelchair, but you can't power through the pain like you can the weakness. Not that you're ever weak.

Frisk tells you it's okay, because Mom will be there, and Sans is meeting them at the mall, but you can still hear the disappointment in their voice, hiding behind the cheerfulness. It gets worse when Asriel says that he's staying behind with you.

"Go with them," you order him, but he shakes his head and looks stubborn.

"You shouldn't be alone," he says, and even Frisk can't argue with that.

So now you're stuck, sitting on the sofa with cartoons blaring and your DS on the coffee table, only a gentle stretch away. Your back is propped up with pillows borrowed from your bed, and you've got a heating pad balanced on your stomach.

And you're so damn  _bored_ , you want to scream.

You open your mouth to say something, probably stupid, definitely grumpy-

And splutter feathers as Asriel's pillow hits you square in the face.

It doesn't hurt- you hasten to reassure him of that, when you see the uncertain look and the way his ears are drooping. And then you're snagging one from the untidy pile he's dropped beside the couch and smacking him back.

He looks like an owl, you think, and laugh harder. It sends twinges of pain down your back, but you don't care. You thwack him again, enjoying the thud, the feel of the pillowcase clenched in your fingers. 

"No fair," he complains, but you stick your tongue out at him.

"I can't even get up, how is it unfair for  _you_?" you point out, aiming for his shoulder this time. His pillow splats harmlessly off the back of the sofa next to you.

"Because you're Chara," he replies. You shrug and smirk.

Then you duck, despite the warning twinge in your hips, as Asriel swings again.

And smashes the lamp right off the side table.

The sound is loud and sharp and sudden and you cringe into the cushions before you realize you've even moved, the pillow coming over your head like the shittiest shield. Asriel bleats in shock, and you feel him nearly sit on you before he scoots away.

"Sorry," you whisper into the folds of your blankets. The heating pad burns like a coal on your thigh and you shrug it off.

"It wasn't your fault, it was mine," Asriel reassures you. You peek up and see him holding his own ears like worry stones. His fur's damp with tears, but the thought of calling him a crybaby now is as far away as the moon.

"We gotta clean this shit up before Frisk and Mom come back," you say suddenly. "Maybe Mom will forget we had a lamp there."

"Not likely," Asriel snorts. You bat at him with one hand, connecting with his shoulder. "Ow!" he whines, rubbing at the spot.

"I didn't even actually hit you," you tell him, and he scrunches his nose at you. 

You try to get off the sofa, but end up falling off it more than anything, which is bad because there are broken pieces of lamp everywhere and you think at least one of them might now be embedded in your butt. Not that you're going to tell Asriel because you know he'd help you get it out, but you also know he'd laugh like a hyena from Frisk's animal book while he did it.

Of course he notices anyway because he pulls you back up and there's blood staining your pants, and you just glare at him, eyes burning with humiliation, and he doesn't say anything.

"Anywhere else?" he asks, and you just shrug because how are you supposed to tell? There is- in your feet and the back of one knee, because you managed to fall down pretty hard, and doesn't that just figure? 

You busy yourself stacking the biggest chunks together while Asriel gets a garbage bag from the kitchen. You don't really know how to dispose of broken things anymore, since you can't chuck the lamp down the hole at Mt. Ebott like you did yourself. Still, you gingerly toss in the pieces and hope they don't rip the plastic too badly.

You've almost got it all picked up when you hear Mom's footsteps outside the front door and Frisk's key jangling in the lock. Exchanging panic-stricken looks, you and Asriel heap up the stray pillows over the spot, and you smack the heating pad down on your stomach so hard, you nearly lose your breath. Asriel sits next to you, his paw clutching your hand.

"We're home!" Frisk announces cheerfully, laden with several plastic shopping bags. They stop in the middle of the living room, eyes flicking uncertainly from you to Asriel to the pile of pillows on the floor.

"Hi," you say, mouth stretching in something you hope looks like a smile.

"Are you feeling all right, Chara?" Toriel calls, locking up behind Frisk. 

"Sure, yes, fine," you reply, mouth stretching wider, until the corners hurt.

"...What happened to the lamp?" Mom asks. You look at Asriel. 

_Shit._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is one line in here that I re-read and just went "...Ouch." I'm mean to them, I really am.


End file.
